All is void and conversations are uneasy. Turning the pages in desperation/shaking hands over what? What we know is untrue.

Open your lungs to fill them with a generous proportion of oxygen, and instead get a mouthfull of shit.

One taking one, take and run.

Morning is a nod like an addict in the depths, chromatic minutes of depleting hesitation. Forget the value of your time because you are rendered fooling and disarmed when they rent your surrender. As you take the check and in some false accomplishment smile.